Between Heaven and Hell
by shadowinthedark13
Summary: "This is so stupid. What are we supposed to do? Thank each other for the great sex and then move on with our lives?" - Angel/Demon AU, SoMa. For Poisoned Scarlet.


**A/N: **So this is for PoisonedScarlet for her birthday. I hope you like it, girl! I've explained some stuff down at the bottom in another Author's Note, just in case people don't understand. Enjoy~

(~)

* * *

Maka Albarn traces the familiar scar across her companion's chest, listening to the irregular heart beat beneath it. It's too fast for a human, but not nearly as quick as hers.

"You never had the stitches taken out?"

He shakes his head, red eyes staring at the ceiling above them. "No," he answers when he realizes that she's not looking at him. "I guess they're supposed to stay in there or something. The guy that did them said it wouldn't be worth the time and effort to pull them back out."

"I bet it would hurt." She presses her fingers into the dip the scar makes when it ends, smiling at the way Soul moves beneath her.

"Probably not as much as getting my chest torn open."

"I'm sorry about that, by the way," Maka whispers, kissing the scar, allowing her lips to linger, soft and dry.

Soul chuckles, running his fingers through her hair. They catch on her tangles, but he works them through anyhow. "Not sorry enough to stop."

She pulls herself up, leaving her chest bare as she stares at him. Soul tries not to stare at _her_ with her tits hanging out in the open, but finds it hard to do so until her hand is beneath his chin and she lifts it to meet her glaring green eyes. "Up here, Romeo."

He smirks, hands moving to her waist, but Maka's pushing him away, smile leaving her face. "Soul—"

"What?" He kisses her, tongue darting out to taste. For a moment, she begins to protest, but he pulls her closer, and she leans into the kiss, turning her head to gain better access.

He knows she has to go, but he doesn't want her to. Especially when she's doing _that_ with her tongue and her hand is moving down his chest brushing over the hair that leads to his—

"Mm, no more of that, Soul," she whispers, pulling away quickly and twisting so she's showing him her back. Maka searches for her clothing that she's sure is on the ground, but she can't distinguish what is hers beneath all of _his_ stupid clothes. How much did he have to even _wear?_ She moves the black jacket and pants, the red shirt and his briefs, even his socks that had little hamburgers on the toes, only to find her panties torn.

She holds them up to him, green eyes narrowing. "I'm _sure_ you just had to do it, right?"

"I told you not to buy sexy underwear."

"You _made me_ buy sexy underwear!" She growls, tossing the panties in his face and leaning down once more, grabbing her bra and dress. Behind her, Soul frowns and leans back against the pillows, resting his arms behind his head.

This is the part he hates about their little get together. She always has to leave, never staying long enough. It's not her fault; he knows that, but it still gets on his nerves when she walks out that door. "Maka."

"Hmm?" She asks, already pulling the black dress on over her head. The curls in her hair have fallen drastically since their meeting earlier in the night, now hanging limp over her shoulders, and she tugs them up out of her face, tying them into a bun at the base of her neck. "What is it, Soul?"

"Don't go."

Maka stares at him, shoulders falling, her mouth twisting into a frown. "Soul—"

"You can stay one night. Nobody would even _know,_ Maka. I'd make sure of it."

She kneels on the bed, resting her hands on either side of him, "I want to stay, I really do. But if I don't get back soon, Tsubaki will start wondering where I went, and I can't have that. Not when she's as close to Black Star as she is. She'll tell him in a heartbeat that I was gone all night and…and I don't want to risk him finding out."

"Don't be scared of him," Soul snaps, sitting up so he's in her face. The red of his eyes darken, and Maka finds it sexy and a little bit terrifying. "I won't let him—"

"Stop, okay?" She breathes, moving on the bed until she's straddling him. He can feel the heat of her through the sheet between them, and it makes his cock twitch. Soul rests his head against her collarbone, breathing in the familiar scent of her; sunshine and strawberries and something so _good_ that it makes his instincts scream to kill her. He knows he probably should, if _his_ superiors ever found them together, they'd surely expect him to. Maybe even force him, if she didn't fight her way out of the predicament. And then they'd kill him, next, for being such a goddamned idiot.

Her hand curls into his hair, pulling, but not hard enough to hurt. Soul bites on her lightly, raising his head to kiss her jaw. "I'm going to leave now, and you're going to let me. No arguing or ki—kissing me, _stop it,_ or next time you'll be sorely disappointed," Maka murmurs, face a safe distance from his. He smirks at her and tries to initiate another kiss, but she won't have it, and instead slips away from him, tugging her dress down to its rightful position.

Soul rises with her, pulling on his briefs while she zips her boots up and grabs her purse from his dresser. By the time he's decent, Maka is already standing at the door of his apartment.

"I'll miss you," she tells him when he pulls her close, annoyed that she's almost as tall as him in those heels of hers. He'll miss her too, but he doesn't say it. "I'll try and come by again this week, alright?"

"Yeah." Soul kisses her once more, and then she's gone, disappearing into thin air before he has a chance to think.

Moments later, or maybe an hour, he's not sure how long he stands at the door, his phone rings, loud and annoying through his apartment. For a moment, he considers letting it go to voice mail, but the thought of it being Kid with a new job gives him the energy to move and answer it.

"Yeah?" He mutters, running a hand through his hair and tugging at it. He needs to shower, or sleep. Or maybe both, he's not sure. Sleeping sounds like a good idea, but if this is a job, then the likelihood of him having time to do both is low.

"Eater," the voice on the other line snaps, and Soul slumps against the wall, scowling.

"_What?"_ he asks, pushing away from the wall and starting to his room. It must be a job, because Kid wouldn't be calling this late if it weren't. And sleep is not on the agenda tonight. Or this morning? What _time_ is it?

"I've got a job for you and Elizabeth. If you can find it in your heart to drag your useless self over here by nine, I would appreciate it."

Soul chuckles, falling into his bed and inhaling the scent of Maka. "Only if you beg, Kid."

"Fuck off, Eater. I'm not in the mood."

"What's eatin' you?"

"_Elizabeth," _he seethes through the phone, and Soul regrets asking. He's wasting precious sleep right now and he can't be doing that. The clock beside his bed tells him that it's a quarter past three, and he figures if he wakes up around eight thirty and showers he'll be at Kid's around nine fifteen-ish.

"What did—"

"She painted her nails all one colour _except for her index finger._ Who _does_ that? I mean _really—"_

"Yeah, buddy, that's rough." He cuts the other man off, exhaustion already taking a hold of him. Soul feels his body relax against the mattress, and he says, "I'll see 'ya in the morning, boss," and hangs up.

He falls asleep with the smell of Maka surrounding him, and wishes not for the first time that things were different.

* * *

That morning, Maka wakes up to soft purrs beside her head. She turns to see Blair curled up on her extra pillow, and kisses the feline's nose quickly, before rolling out of bed, memories of the previous night resurfacing in her hazy mind. _Soul,_ she thinks, looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and spotting a hickey on her neck, one that she'll have to cover with copious amounts of make-up, less anyone see it.

And she hates that; having to hide their relationship. But it's too dangerous to admit to it, or even bring up the thought of it, and they'd both nearly been killed once before because of it. The scar on his chest proves how much both their kinds hate the thought of being together, and Maka is reminded of it every time she sees it.

But contrary to all that, Maka doesn't hate being an angel. She _couldn't_ hate being an angel, just like Soul enjoys being a demon. It's how they were both raised, and who they are.

She doesn't spend much time dwelling on the thoughts though. Instead, she turns on her shower and dreads the next day.

Maka gets to work a bit late, but Black Star is too busy yelling at an intern to take notice. She lets out a breath of relief, sure that her night at Soul's would be common knowledge by now. But thankfully, she and her…well, Soul, are still in the clear for now.

She spots Tsubaki sitting at her desk, and Maka quickly beelines for the older woman, giving her a small smile. "Hey."

Tsubaki returns the smile easily, holding up a finger and motioning to the headset she's wearing. "That'll be fine, I'm sure, but let me check with Mister Ford first. Alright, thank-you, and I'll have him get back to you. Yes, you too. Bye now."

She turns the headset off and rests it on her desk, turning to Maka with bright indigo eyes. "You've got a few jobs, Maka. They called in last night after you left, but you had such a hard day that I didn't want to bother you at home." Maka raises an eyebrow, and Tsubaki adds almost as an afterthought, "Besides, they didn't need someone until tonight."

Nodding, Maka walks around her friend's desk to her own, settling down in it slowly. Her back is a bit sore from the night before, and she catches the flashes of teeth and her back hitting the wall, and his _smile_ quickly when she blinks, but it's out of her thoughts and shoved as far away as possible when she turns to Tsubaki. "So what was the job for anyway?"

Tsubaki shuffles a few papers around on her desk before finding the one she's looking for and handing it to Maka. It has the time and place and the client's phone number, and…oh, damn. She'll probably be gone for a few days. So that means she'll see Soul by the end of the week. Or, she'll try at least.

"New York? How many is that this month? Why is it such a hotspot for kishin?" Maka wonders aloud. Tsubaki shrugs and turns back to her desk, throwing a, "Maybe something's going on there? Check it out after you take the kishin down."

Maka nods and turns back to her own desk, trying to think up what she'll tell Soul.

They don't talk about their jobs. It's one of the few things they agreed on when they first began seeing one another. He didn't tell her about the jobs he went on, or the things he did to make it so high up on the chain of succession on the demon's side, and Maka kept her mouth shut about her own organization, knowing that if it came down to it, which she doubts it would, but just for precaution, Soul could use it against her. Well, he _had_ used it against her when they were younger, but things had been different then. All she knows is that he uses the same weapon as she does: a scythe.

Someone slaps a hand down on her desk, startling her out of her thoughts. When she looks up, Black Star is standing there, grinning. "So I hear we're going on a job together?"

"What?" Maka frowns, glancing over at Tsubaki, who gives her a sheepish look. _That's why she didn't call, _Maka realizes. "Where is Justin? He usually goes on jobs with me!"

"Oh a leave of absence," Tsubaki informs her, looking a bit worried. "He's been sick these past few weeks, and I think Stein listened to Marie long enough to allow him time off."

Black Star slides papers out of the way so he can sit on her desk, and Maka resists the urge to shove him onto his ass. She doesn't think she can handle his ego for the duration of this job. No, she _knows_ she can't. "Tsubaki, I can still back out, right—"

"But you _won't,"_ both Black Star and Tsubaki say, the former with a glare in her direction. "C'mon, Maka, it'll be fun! The two of us being partners again. Like the good ol' days!"

She groans, but knows she won't back out of the job. "Fine, but _I_ get to make the plan, Black Star! Last time you got us caught by the kishin and I'm not—"

"Yeah, yeah." He waves his hand at her and slips off her desk, walking away from her and Tsubaki. "Go home and get your shit together, Albarn. Your god commands it!"

* * *

"New York?" Soul grins, leaning forward in his chair. Beside him, Liz files her nails, looking bored. He notes that she removed all the polish from them. "I can handle New York."

"No strip clubs," Liz snaps, narrowing her eyes at him. "I'm not getting hit on by girls just so you can pop a boner, hotshot."

Kid clears his throat, and the two demons turn to look at him. He tosses them both folders, thick with information on the kishin. Soul's mouth is already watering, wanting the taste of a kishin soul, and maybe a human's while he's at it. He hasn't had one of those in such a long time, and although Maka made her disgust known about the fact that he and his kind ate human souls, he still ate them. They tasted so…_innocent_ and sweet, unlike kishin souls, which tasted spicy and vaguely like Mexican food.

"Be aware that there may be an angel lurking around. This kishin has drawn the attention of both sides, from what I gather."

"It's that strong?" Liz questions, flipping through the folder, her eyebrows rising. Images of the kishin's victims appear, and Soul can't help the grin that crawls up his face, just like Liz can't help the way her stomach rumbles. "He's very…creative."

They weren't exactly opposed to kishin killing humans. Demons were solitary beings, so a kishin killing fifty humans was hardly a problem. It was when the police started getting involved, or the angels were questioning the demons that they intervened. Angels, on the other hand, tried to take care of a kishin as soon as the problem arose. Usually keeping it clean and quiet, making sure the humans didn't find out what was going on behind the scenes.

"I think there is more than just a kishin out there. That's why I'm sending the two of you."

"So glad you have faith in us, Kiddo," Liz grins, closing the folder and propping her feet up on the table. She stretches her arms behind her head, and Soul follows the motion, being reminded of the way Maka stretches when she wakes up, her stomach going taught—

"And Soul?"

He turns, eyebrows raised in question. Kid is staring at him with an expression he doesn't comprehend. It's unnerving, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it, because Kid is tossing him a photograph, mouth curling up into a smirk. Soul tries not to be worried about the picture, or how he got it.

Liz looks over, mouth drawn into a line, staring at the picture of Maka _in his bed,_ and Kid says, "Stay away from the angels."

* * *

New York has always been one of her favorite places to be. She loved the sights and the humans, the way they interacted with one another, the way they weren't afraid to be whom they truly were. There was a sort of freedom to New York that Maka had never seen anywhere else in all her years of life.

She did not, however, enjoy the rain. Unfortunately for her, it was also mid-fall and the rain was cold and sharp, hitting the top of her head and drenching her to the bones. Maka had tried many times to hail a cab, but they sped past her at each time. Beside her, Black Star seemed to not be affected by the rain, and walked with his arms behind his head, staring ahead of them with a smile on his face. "So do you have a plan, yet, bookworm?"

Maka shivered, pulling her bag closer to her chest, hoping that everything inside wasn't soaked. "I've thought about it a bit, but every time I go over the report of the deaths, something doesn't add up. I'm not exactly sure _what,"_ she adds when Black Star tosses her a glance, "but it's weird. I'll look over it more tonight. Did you want to go to the crime scenes later and take a look; see if we can find anything?"

He nods, pushing closer to her when people begin to walk closer to them. That's one of the things she hates about big cities. Angels looked different from humans, so they had to glamour themselves to seem more normal. She knew Black Star hated it too, since he had to go through more glamour than she. But then there were times when humans had better sight than others, and could see the glow to their skin, or the brightness to their eyes. It unnerved Maka.

They had just arrived at the hotel when someone bumped into her particularly hard. Black Star fumbled to catch her before she could fall, but it was no use, since her instincts took over, and she caught herself anyway. Maka turned, wanting to see who had bumped into her, but all she caught was a smirk, the man's eyes hidden behind the rim of his hat. "Sorry, miss, can't see much in this rain."

Black Star snorted, but Maka offered him a small smile, shrugging. "It's not a problem." There was something off about this man, but she couldn't figure it out. Before she had a chance to say anything else, he was already gone, disappearing through the thick crowds.

"C'mon, Maka. We've gotta get in there and dried off."

Nodding, Maka follows her friend.

|+)

* * *

It was only when Black Star got into the shower than Maka deemed it safe to call Soul. But, just for precaution, she stepped out onto the small balcony, thanking the person who thought to add a canopy.

It had stopped raining, but Maka could tell it wouldn't be for long. The clouds were dark, almost black in colour, and there were no signs of it clearing up anytime soon. Maka hated that. Rain always put a damper on jobs.

The phone rang a few times before Soul answered with a quick, "Yeah?"

"Hey," she smiled, sitting on one of the chairs out on the balcony. It was still cold, especially since she and Black Star's suite was on the eighteenth floor. She pulled her legs up onto the chair and put an arm around them, hugging them to her chest.

"Carmine!" Soul laughed, and Maka's breath stopped. _Carmine?_ Couldn't he tell her voice by now? And who was this Carmine woman? Anger rose in her throat, a retort on the tip of her tongue, when Soul spoke.

"No, no. I was just heading over to Chupa Cabra's for a few drinks before I head off to another job."

_Chupa Cabra's, _the name was familiar, a place her father visited regularly, but it was also she and Soul's code word. She knew he would never go there, knowing her distaste for the things that went on at the god-awful club, and besides, they had both vowed not to see other people while they did…whatever it was they did. No, it was their signal that something was wrong. That they'd been found out.

"Bye, Soul," she breathed into the phone, hanging up before he could reply.

_They had been found out._ How could that have happened? They were always so careful, making sure to only meet at each other's house, and only through their usual teleporting. Being an angel had _some_ advantages, being able to come and go places without being seen or heard. But if they'd been found out, then one of them had to have messed up somewhere, otherwise there was no way…

Maka swallowed, standing from her chair with shaking limbs. If her superiors found out about this—her _Father,_ Lord Death… God, if Black Star knew, he'd kill Soul in an instant.

Black Star's loud voice penetrates through the thick glass of the sliding door, beckoning Maka back into the room so they can strategize.

(~)

* * *

He's still not over the way she sounded when she hung up, but he couldn't really focus on it when Liz's fierce glare and a kishin's _mouth_ inches from his face.

"Would you shut up and _help me?_ Goddammit woman! And Kid calls _you_ one of the best."

"I'm still not done with you," she snaps, hands on her hips, her gun hanging from her fingers while his scythe had been knocked from his hands four minutes ago. His fingers are beginning to hurt from keeping the kishin's jaw open and _away_ from his face, but he can still feel sticky, burning saliva trickling down his face. "You got told off by Kid for _fucking an angel!_ That's something you need to share with your partner."

"You're not my partner," he sighs, kneeing the kishin in the abdomen. It doesn't seem to do much of anything, but it was worth a shot. "But I will _fucking tell you_ if you help get this _fucking kishin off of me!"_

The blonde's glare goes from menacing to scathing, but she raises her gun, shooting the monster without taking her eyes off of him. "And I get the soul," she laughs. "Because I _was_ the one who shot it," she adds when he begins to protest.

And great, now he's covered in the thing's goopy blood and guts. He scowls at his friend and pulls a piece of kishin meat off of his shoulder. "I prefer when they just disappear. Like, slice and poof."

"I know what you meant."

Liz chews into the gleaming red Soul, making sure to show Soul what a _great_ soul it is. "I don't think it's our target."

He shrugs, continuing to wipe himself off. "So what do you want to—"

"Who is she? I hope it's not that pink haired chick because _shit_ Soul, you could do a thousand times better. Seriously—"

"Her name is Maka," Soul interrupts, deeming himself clean enough to get a drink at the bar he'd passed on his way here. "She's one of Death's top soldiers."

"Maka…_Maka…_is she the…big titted Japanese one? With the long hair and the _exceptional_ ass?"

"…blonde. With the—"

"Tiny tits! Kid likes her hair. Patti and I enjoy coming up with degrading nicknames. And _Giriko-_"

"I know what Giriko has to say about her, thanks, though." Soul grits his teeth, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. The only reason he hadn't torn the bastard's head off during debriefings was because their relationship was supposed to stay a secret. But he had been too close _many_ times when the older demon's lips would curl into a sneer when Maka's profile came onto the screen. It wasn't unusual for them to have meetings to discuss the angels they might see on the job, and Maka, along with Tsubaki Nakatsukasa and Black Star.

He can feel Liz's gaze on him as he walks, the cool night air drying the saliva still on his face. Soul scrubs at it with his fingernails, trying to get it off before he goes into the bar. "What else do you want to know?"

His friend lets out a loud sigh and tips her head back. "I dunno…why'd you risk her life just to fuck her?"

"I wasn't just _fucking her,"_ Soul snaps almost immediately, then flushes. How uncool can he be? How much more _vulnerable can he get?_ If it came down to it, Liz could use this against him eventually. She could be collecting information from Kid. And the more attached she thinks he is, the more likely they are to kill Maka before she can relay any information he might have told her to her boss. Which he _hasn't_ but it's not the point. Tie up all loose ends and that shit. "I didn't… That's not what I meant."

Liz elbows him in the ribs, a small smile lighting up her face. "Hey, don't worry about it, man. I'm not a rat. So this angel, you really liked her that much?"

"It's more than that." He mutters, hunching his shoulders up against the cool wind.

She lets out a laugh then, but it's not cruel or mocking. It's like she understands. And thinking on it, Soul realizes her relationship with Kid is pretty fucked up, too. Probably not as much as Soul's, but she knows where he's coming from. "Isn't it always?"

(~)

* * *

Maka knows this guy is trouble the moment he sits down.

"What's a pretty thing like you doin' here all alone?" He asks, grinning at her. Maka resists the urge to shudder, because he's kind of creepy and obviously doesn't know how to flirt properly. His smarmy grin only grows when she turns away, and he slides his stool closer to hers. _Just bring me my food, for god's sake. _She's not used to men hitting on her all that often since she's usually around the same people each day, and Soul _knew_ how to flirt and make her feel sexy. This guy most certainly does not.

"Yes," Maka nods, sipping her water. She hopes the waiter gets back quickly with the food she ordered, because she doesn't think she can handle smelling his raunchy breath or the feeling of his eyes on her skin much longer. Maybe she should send Black Star back down—

No! She has to do this. She _will_ do this. She's Maka fucking Albarn, an angel and a scythe wielder, and she doesn't chicken out, dammit!

But she can't help the feeling of relief when the waiter brings by her food, all wrapped nicely in its Styrofoam boxes. He offers a smile and apologizes for the food being late, to which Maka waves off. And when he asks if she's finished with her drink, she downs the rest and passes him the glass, thanking him.

She doesn't pay the creep next to her another moment of her attention, even when he tries to speak with her before she leaves.

By the time she gets to the elevator, however, he's right behind her, and manages to slip in before the doors slide shut. Annoyed, Maka keeps to the wall of the elevator, stabbing the button for her floor repeatedly until it begins moving. She doesn't fail to notice that he doesn't press any buttons, but before she can say anything, the elevator jerks and begins to rise, along with her stomach.

She stumbles slightly, clutching the bar along the wall for support. Beside her, the man grins, his eyes never leaving her. "Never been on an elevator before, sweetheart?"

Maka can't reply. She's afraid that she might puke if she does, and although puking on this prick would make her day, _puking_ is not something she wants at the moment.

The elevator jerks again, and _why is it doing that?_ Maka's knees hit the floor sharply. All she wants to do is curl in on herself but she can't even do that. What is that guy doing? What—what's he _holding?_

Just before her vision goes dark, Maka sees the plastic wrapper that holds small white pills.

(~)

* * *

He doesn't remember what time Liz left, but it feels like a million years ago. He's not really sure what time it is, either, but he knows that he has to be back at the hotel by noon tomorrow, because that is when Liz wants to go find the kishin they're supposed to be looking for.

Not that he cares. He's pretty sure that Kid only sent him on a job so that things back home could blow over. That is if Kid told anyone. Or the creep who _took_ the photo told anyone.

Soul is about to get up and call it a night when someone sits down beside him with an extra beer. Soul glances at the guy, raising an eyebrow at his friendliness. The guy merely smirks, pulling his hat off and dropping it into the counter, pushing the beer toward Soul.

"It's not cool to drink alone."

After a moment of studying the man and deeming him normal and _human,_ Soul shrugs, grabbing the beer and taking a swig. "You got me there."

They don't speak really, only the occasional question; _did you see last night's game? is there any good food here?, you got a smoke?_ And somehow Soul keeps having beers handed to him but his wallet stays very full. And his head hurts, but only a bit. Nothing like the time he challenged Kilik to a drinking contest, because that was a night he'll never repeat. He had no idea the man could hold his liquor so well.

After his fourth (fifth—he can't really remember, but it's something like that) beer, Soul _really_ decides to call it a night, and stands from his stool. But as soon as he does so, the world seems to tilt, and the man who had bought him the beers' eyes look like they're glowing. _Glowing?_

Soul tips forward, his nose knocking against the worn wood of the bar. It hurts and he can feel blood dripping down into his mouth and onto his shirt, but he pays it no mind, and instead tries to stand, only to be shoved back down by a rough foot against his back. "I was wondering how many it'd take to make you like this. It's a good thing, too, since I've only got three pills left. I used most of them on that angel cunt you like fucking so much."

The words pass through one ear and out the other. Soul is far too worried about how the man, the seemingly _human man, _managed to slip roofies into his drink. Err, he assumes they are roofies. And seriously, he should have _known_ nobody buys a guy free beers unless they're hitting on him, and this guy didn't strike him as the type. The whole talk about not taking things from strangers' rings loud and annoying in his head, and for some fucking reason, has a mixture of Maka and Kid's voice.

His scythe won't come to him, either, so maybe the roofies thing is out of question, because it probably wouldn't affect his scythe. And _why_ aren't the other bar patron's helping? What the _fuck?_

Soul is kicked in the side roughly and flipped over, meeting the dark eyes of his assailant. "Arachne will be _so_ pleased to see you, now."

The man—Soul now recognizes him as Noah, one of Arachne's _minions—_raises a fist and the world fades around him.

(~)

* * *

_Where is Black Star?_ Is the first question Maka asks herself, and the second is _why is my butt wet?_

Her eyes crack open, focusing slowly on her surroundings. Its dark, but her eyes adjust to it quickly, and Maka notes that she is in a cellar. Her butt is wet because she's sitting in…well, she's not entirely sure, but she scrambles away from it quickly, shoes scuffing loudly in against the floor. _Where the fuck is Black Star?_ This is no good. If she doesn't know how she got here or where here even _is_ and if she doesn't, then how will her partner?

And her head _hurts_. Really, her whole body is wracked with pain, her back especially so, but her head pounds and it feels like someone might be kicking against the inside of her skull, trying to get out. Maka presses her fingers to her eyes, trying to relax herself. She has to remember what happened before she freaks out. She has to _not freak out._

What does she remember? Going over a plan with Black Star, heading out early to look around, inspect the scenes where the humans were murdered. They stopped by a few candy shops so Black Star could buy Tsubaki the rock candy she likes so much. Next they went to the hotel and after that she—

"Fuck," Maka breathes, gazing at the wall. "Fuck _me."_

How could she have been so _stupid?_ That douche _seemed_ like a creep, so of course he was! How he managed to slip her those drugs was beyond her, but she was an idiot for not noticing. She was an angel! She was supposed to notice these things, goddammit! This was not okay, not in the slightest.

Maka hits her fist against the damp ground and surveys her surroundings. Aside from the puddle of…blood, was it? Black blood, which meant that it was a demon or kishin that had occupied the room before her. Maka didn't see anything except the door, and she's sure it's locked. But maybe…

Closing her eyes and trying to ignore the pounding in her head, Maka summons her scythe, picturing it in her mind, the long silver staff, the twist of green and black across the long, sharp blade. She imagines pulling it from herself, her soul, but all she gets is an empty feeling. And that can't be good. Of _course not._

She's about to try again, or maybe try opening the door when she hears footsteps and the sound of something scuffing against the ground. It sounds like…dragging, maybe? Like somebody dragging their feet. And it sounds like they're coming this way.

Before she has a chance to do anything, the door of the cellar is pulled open, and a body is deposited, falling face first into the puddle of black blood. If she has to guess, Maka assumes that's whose blood it is.

She glares up at her assailants, readying herself for a fight, but stops short when she saw how many people were there; at least four, maybe more behind them. She might be stronger than humans, but up against these guys, who may or may not be demons or kishin, she doesn't have a chance without her scythe. And she can't even summon it.

One of the men, someone who Maka recognizes but can't place, smirks at her. "Don't get too frisky while I'm gone, kiddies," he laughs, and the door is shut once more, leaving Maka and the man alone.

For several moments, all she could hear was the man's laboured breathing. But soon, he began to move and, with a blood stained fist, tugs the hood of his sweater back to revealed black blood stained hair. _White_ blood stained hair.

"Soul!" Maka shouts, darting forward, her knees scraping against the ground painfully. Soul looks up, eyebrows furrowing as he recognizes her voice. She can see his mouth open, but no words come out. Maka sees how horrible he looks, and assumed it was worse than what she could see, since it was dark. "Soul," she repeats, her hand rising, wanting to touch him, but unsure where she _could._ She didn't want to hurt him any more than he already was. And how had they even gotten him? He was one of the strongest demons that she knew and he wasn't easily bested by _anyone._

He turns away from her and spits something black at the ground, before scrubbing his mouth with a sleeve. "What," he begins, only to cough loudly. It's watery, like he has fluids in his lungs, and her heart clenches at the thought. He clears his throat and starts again. "What are you doing here? How did they get you?"

"Don't worry about _me,_ you idiot," she scolds, moving closer so that her knees brush his. He winces slightly, but otherwise allows her close, resting his hand on her thigh. "What did they do to you?" Her voice is fierce, and she touches his jaw carefully, "_Who_ did this to you?"

"I'm like, eighty-seven percent sure that Arachne is behind this. I saw Giriko out there." He takes a breath and backs away from her, keeping a grip on her hand as he rests back against the wall. "And nothing too bad. I'm already healing. Plus, I can't use my fucking scythe. Whatever they gave me must have…shit, I don't even know. It was different than normal roofies, though."

Maka doesn't comment that it's _worse_ than that. That she can see the way he favors his left side, or how his right arm is twisted wrong. He'd probably be annoyed with her if she did, and it wouldn't do them any good to fight with one another. "I can't summon my scythe, either."

Soul scowls and runs a hand through his hair, tugging it harshly. "Fuck. _Fuck."_

"Is this all because of us?" When Soul doesn't answer her, Maka takes his silence as a yes. Dammit. If that's the case, then he'll probably be forced to—

"If they make you…" Maka swallows, not meeting Soul's eyes, though she can feel them boring into the side of her face. "If they want you to kill me, you've got to do it, or they'll kill you too."

She doesn't expect him to grab her by the collar of her shirt and pull her down. But he does, and his voice is steely and _pissed_, "Don't talk stupid, do you hear me? I'm not going to fucking kill you, and we're not going to die."

But he _has_ to know that the chance of them making it out of this place alive it low. Especially if Black Star can't track them. Or…

"Were you on a job? In New York?" Maka asks in a rush, pushing his hand away from her shirt and sitting up. If he has a partner here, it may be easier to find them. When Soul nods, Maka grins. "With your partner?"

"Liz Thompson," Soul answers cautiously, raising an eyebrow at her sudden glee. "Why? She's not in on this, if that's what you're wondering—"

"No," Maka shakes her head, her eyes meeting his. She can see that the swelling around his eyes has gone away, and his nose has straightened out, the black blood no longer falling from it. Slowly, she presses her hands to his cheeks and leans forward, "If Black Star finds Liz and realizes that you're here too, and _missing,_ then he'll be desperate to find you! He'll want to kill you! And Black Star doesn't stop once he has something set in his mind! Even if he thinks we've run away together, he'll _track you down!_"

Oh fuck, she's far too excited. She hopes that they aren't being monitored right now, because then her plans for escape will have gone down the drain. She's about to speak again when Soul speaks.

"How is that a good thing?" Soul shakes his head, hands rising and clasping her wrists. "Did they hit you in the head? Wait, _did they do anything?"_

"Well, he'll team up with Liz and pretend like he's helping her, so when they _do_ find us, you and Liz can get out of here before he kills you!"

Personally, Maka thinks her plan is genius, and if she knows her partner as well as she thinks, he'll likely call Tsubaki in to help. But Soul is looking at her like she's lost a few brain cells, and the way his brows are furrowing… "What is it?"

He looks away from her, jaw clenched. "And what about us?"

She…well, she hadn't thought about it. But with everything going on, it probably isn't the safest if they saw each other again. They were cautious and paranoid before, and they'd still been caught somehow. Her mood dampens, and she squeezes his hand in hers.

"We could give up our powers."

Maka's eyes snap to meet his, mouth dropping open. "You mean like, I'd give up my wings and you your…Soul. _Soul,_ we can't. I can't do that." If they did, they'd be tracked down for sure, and that was only if their superiors allowed them to do so. And they wouldn't be able to defend themselves without their weapons. Besides, it's been so long—_too_ long since she's been human. Almost four hundred years, and she doesn't want to give up her wings. Not for a boy, even one that she—

"Yeah," he sighs, and when she looks at him again, he's not angry with her. He understands, and she loves him so much. Too much.

She crawls over to him; ignoring the blood she steps in on the way, and curls up against his side, hoping that he's completely healed so she's not hurting him.

"What if Black Star doesn't get here in time?" She asks after a while, finger drifting up and down his chest slowly, tracing a pattern across his shirt.

"We'll figure something out."

Maka isn't so sure, but she nods anyway.

(~)

* * *

"Can you do it yet?"

"No," Maka grumbles, stomping her foot in frustration. "What the fuck kind of demon drugs are these? I can't summon my fucking scythe, can't summon my wings, and can't get us the fuck _outta here."_

Soul laughs at her colourful vocabulary and crosses his arms. He's leaning on the wall while she stands in the middle of the cellar, looking a bit foolish as she waves her hands to and fro, and waiting for the light that usually means her weapon is ready.

She turns to glare at him, green eyes annoyed. "Okay, Chuckles. Why don't you try summoning _your_ weapon? It's a demon drug we got—"

"You don't _know that,"_ Soul interjects, frowning at her, but she continues without missing a beat.

"—so you should be immune! Any _good_ demon would be immune."

"Yeah, well why isn't your spectacular angel blood, or angel mojo or whatever the fuck canceling out the drugs? Probably because it's more than a demon drug."

"Jerk," Maka glowers, turning her back to him. He can tell she's concentrating again, and Soul watches in muted fascination as her body glows slightly, a dim light rising off her body, before it flickers and fades. She seems to give up then, and Maka slumps forward, kicking her foot against the ground. "This sucks."

Just for kicks, Soul raises his hand and feels the familiar feeling rise in his chest. He can feel the scythe in his hand, picture it in his mind, but it doesn't appear. "I'm still out, too."

"Great."

Maka shuffles back toward him, face twisted in a grimace. "We can't fight your demon friends like this."

"Hey now, I'm the pessimistic one, Maka. You're the one who thinks everything will work out fine."

She doesn't seem to find this funny. Instead, she leans forward, grabbing onto the collar of his leather jacket and pulling him down to meet her lips. He's a bit confused, but then she pulls away, hand coming down the slam over his skull.

Soul chokes, pulling away from her with a groan and a frown. "Maka? What the _fuck?!"_

"Well, it's not a book but it'll do. And I'm not being _pessimistic,_ you jerk! I'm being…rational. I mean, what are we up against? Ten, _twenty_ demons? I can't chop my way through all of them."

Rubbing his head and frowning, Soul tugs her back toward him, allowing himself to fall back against the wall once more. "We don't have to. Your partner and mine will find us."

"Yeah," she says, but she doesn't sound so sure. Sighing, Soul runs a hand through his hair and rests his other hand on her hip.

"You know, that was kind of rude, earlier." Her eyebrows furrow and she stares at him, mouth opening to ask, but he kisses her instead, growling against her mouth. "Kissing and then hitting me. Not cool, Maka. Not cool at _all."_

She giggles against his lips and presses closer, angling her mouth. And shit, it's only been a few days since they've done that, and he's missed it so much. It scares him a bit, how much he cares for her, how much he _wants_ her. Sometimes he'll pretend that it's really just the demon in him that wants her. That wants to ruin her. But he knows that it's more than that. It's the human part of her that wants her. This isn't his darkness trying to steal her light; it's his human side trying to find a foothold once more.

"Wait," she breathes, pulling away from him, gasping for breath. "What if they come in? Or—"

"Who gives a shit," he raises a hand to her face, stroking the skin under her eye.

She grins softly, and presses him back against the wall, hands sliding quickly down his chest, slipping under his t-shirt and rising up his chest. Her fingers trace his scar, memorizing each dip of his skin, and his hands follow suit, tugging her shirt out of her skirt, tearing a few of the buttons. Before she can protest, he presses his mouth against her neck, licking and biting the skin.

A moan tears from his throat when her hands travel lower, tugging his belt undone and sliding her fingers below his waistband, wrapping a small hand around him. Soul can feel her laugh lightly when he hisses, warming her already hot skin. He's a mess and it's is so un-fucking-cool, but hey, at least he's not jerking into her hand, right? Though it's almost as bad when he lets out a whimper.

This time, Maka presses her face to his neck to muffle her laughter. Her long eyelashes brush his skin, and Soul can feel the familiar heat rising in his stomach as her movements become tighter, sharper. She pumps him quickly and she's going so fast and _fuck, fuck, fuuuuck that is good shit._ If they're going to die, a good-bye handy is totally the way to go. She's the fucking best.

"You're the fucking best," he tells her, tugging her hand away from his cock and switching their positions, pushing her against the wall instead. She lets out a low whine when he tugs her shirt open, careful not to tear _all_ the buttons off. And yes, perfect, she's wearing the sexy bra with the purple and black and _sweet mother of fuck,_ she's perfect.

Without hesitating, Soul shoves her bra up over her breasts and lowers his mouth to one, his hand grabbing her other one and rolling the nipple between two fingers. Her breath comes out short and erratic and she winds a hand into his hair, arching away from the wall, pulling his hand from her breast and pulling her skirt up. "_Soul," _she hisses when he bites the underside of her breast. "C'mon, pl-_please—"_

He presses his fingers against her slit and can immediately feel her heat, can tell how _wet_ she is. "Damn," he chuckles, kissing her some more while his fingers press against her clit, rubbing and pinching. "Excited?"

"Well, I figure now's the time, right?" And yeah, it really is. This is their last time together. It doesn't matter if they die later, or if Black Star comes to get them, he'll never be able to touch her like this again, not without repercussions, or having to constantly look over his shoulder. Not without the threat of her death hanging over his head.

He pushes her knees farther apart and hoists her up, pressing her tighter against the wall. He can feel her heat against his cock, and he twitches in anticipation. Maka presses closer to him, and his cock rubs against her wet folds, and he wants her more than anything. He loves her.

"I—I love you too," she tells him, and he pushes forward, not realizing he's said it out loud. But he doesn't care. He's _glad_ he did it, and he presses his mouth to hers, tongues sliding against one another.

She's hot and tight and he was so close already, but now it feels like he's going to explode or die or both, because she's circling her hips and pushing, but he'll hold on a little longer because how uncool would he be to come before she does?

Maka pants against his neck, presses wet, sloppy kisses there, sucking along his pulse. "I don't—regret it," she tells him, and he doesn't either, he hopes she knows that. He really does.

Soul lowers his hand between them, circling her clit with his thumb. And it seems like that is all it took, because she moves faster, hands digging into the flesh of his ass, breath hitching. She's so beautiful like this, with her hair all fucked up and her cheeks and neck and _chest_ flushed and he did that to her. That was _him._

He bites down on her shoulder so hard that he breaks the skin when he comes, shaking and shuddering and spilling himself inside her, but Maka doesn't complain. Actually, he's not even sure if she's noticed, because her head is thrown back against the wall, eyes shut as she comes with a loud cry.

They come down from their high slowly, and just as they begin tugging their clothing back into their rightful spots, they hear clapping.

Maka inhales sharply, only two buttons done up, and Soul spins around, not sure what to expect. His hand is held out, but nothing appears, no shadows or cold air, no _scythe,_ and he hopes whoever it is isn't looking to fight right now, because Soul's not—he can't fight yet. Not without his scythe.

But the man in the doorway isn't familiar to him. A light flickers on overhead, and Soul steps back, moving to stand just in front of Maka. He can feel her anxiety, her anger, but he ignores it and instead focuses on the man.

"My, my, that was quite a show."

He steps into the cellar, hands clasped in front of him. He's got a crucifix hanging from his neck and his eyes are far too blue, almost like the sky. He's no demon, Soul realizes slowly. He's an angel.

"_Justin?"_ Maka shoves her way past Soul, hands clenched into fists. The blonde man smirks and tilts his head to the side.

"Surprised to see me, Maka? I bet you're not as surprised as I was when I found out you were fucking a demon."

She's shaking, Soul notices but before he can do anything, Maka darts forward, shoving Justin into the wall opposite of them. His head cracks back, hitting the stone wall with a thud. "_You did this?!"_

Two more people enter the room, demon's that Soul recognizes from around the headquarters but can't place, and they point guns at both he and Maka. Not that they need to point one at Maka, because Justin is quick, grabbing her by her hair. "It's for the best, dear. _God_ wants this. It is stated in our Rules that angel and demon shall not _lie together,_ and you broke that rule. You should be punished properly."

"Fuck you," she spits, and Soul is furious as Justin pulls her from the room by her hair. And he's even more pissed off when one of the demons grabs _him_ and drags him from the room. Normally, he would put up a fight, but the taller of the demons is pointing his gun to his head and while he could heal from broken bones, he's not sure he could handle his brain being splattered along the walls.

(~)

* * *

"Did you know," Arachne begins, mouth lifting in a smile. Soul holds back the urge to spit at her, knowing it wouldn't do neither him nor Maka any good. If anything, it'd get them killed faster. "That we demons aren't _real_ demons?"

He's heard all of this bullshit before. It was only a rumor that there were other types of demons, that they were just knock-offs, but not many demons believed that. And Soul was one of them. It just didn't make any goddamn sense.

Soul snorts, ignoring the pain that races up his arms when the goons behind him tug at his restraints. The chair he's been tied too is uncomfortable at best, and his stupid fucking powers haven't returned to him yet, including his strength. Beside him, he can see that Maka hasn't gotten her powers back yet either. And she looks confused. Awesome.

"What do you mean? Demons are the _only_ demons."

Arachne laughs, her head falling back, tendrils of hair falling from her bun. "Oh, you foolish angel." Her heels click against the concrete floor as she walks forward, holding out a long, thin case. Soul watches as she taps the case against Maka's nose. "We demons like Eater and Death the Kid and myself, are only carbon copies; not fakes really, but not the real thing. See, we were human once; had human _blood_ racing through our veins. And when we received demon blood during our human lives, it mutated the blood, but never got rid of it."

Soul watches Maka's eyebrows furrow, but she doesn't say anything and allows Arachne to continue. "But even then, the demon blood wasn't _rich_ enough. It wasn't pure. And this?" She holds the case up, popping it open and taking out a syringe.

Heart stopping, Soul watches as she takes it out of the case, the black stuff inside barely shifting inside with Arachne's movements. It isn't solid, but it's not exactly a liquid. It's the first time he's ever seen the stuff, but he knows that it's not good.

"This is what _real_ demon blood looks like."

For a moment, there is only silence that rings throughout the warehouse. And then Maka laughs, her head thrown back, chest heaving with each laugh. "You are the _stupidest_ demon bitch I think I've ever met. Really. How would _you_ find real 'demon blood'?"

Maka's still smirking after Arachne smacks her, but Soul's not. He growls at the older woman, struggling against his restraints. "Fucking touch her again and I'll shove that syringe up your ass you _bitch!"_

Arachne ignores Soul and stares at Maka, her annoyance showing. "The demon Asura, as I'm sure you've heard of him. He's this sad little thing in the darkest parts of the earth. And he's so _scared_ of everything. But his blood is what is truly good. Almost _too_ good, actually. It usually kills its hosts, because the blood is so pure. There has only been one demon who could handle it, and even then, he didn't exactly do much good."

_Crona,_ Soul thinks, memories of torn flesh and hot blood flooding through his mind. Maka pales, coming to the same conclusion as him. "What the fuck are you talking about? Kid wouldn't stand for this. There is no _way."_

"What Death the Kid doesn't know won't hurt him, yet. He's far too invested in beating his Father's angels than worrying about anything behind the scenes. And after this, I plan on getting rid of _Kid_ and those blonde idiots he parades around with and use the blood on every demon I can get my hands on. Besides, anyone who has found out that wasn't trustworthy was immediately taken care of. Angel souls aren't nearly as delicious as _demon_ souls."

Arachne begins to walk toward him, grin growing. "And you, Soul Eater. Our little fallen demon." He grimaces when she grabs his chin, but doesn't pull away. "Did you know that Giriko here wanted to kill your angel? Wring her pretty little neck, have his _fun_ with her. But I said no. I figured you'd like to kill her yourself."

Soul spits, and it smacks against her face, right above her lips. He takes pleasure in the face she makes, face twisting with fury, eyes darkening. Good, the bitch deserves it.

"He followed you, too. Watched you fuck her."

Oh, how he wishes his hands were free. Because it'd be her fucking soul he'd be eating, right after he ripped it out of her. Instead, he snarls at her, wishing for the umpteenth time that his fucking powers would work.

Soul glares at her, and that's when he notices the syringe is held tightly in her hand…

"No," Maka snaps, and he can just see in his peripheral that she's struggling against her restraints, ignoring Giriko and Justin while they try and hold her back. She glows, her powers returning for a few seconds, before it fades. "_Stop!"_

"What a better test subject than you? The demon that fell for the angel slut. And if it works, we won't have to kill you. Giriko, come here, please."

Now would be a fabulous time for Liz to come and save the day, even if she gave him shit for the rest of eternity, even if he weren't allowed to see Maka anymore, because anything would be better than having this shit injected into his veins. Anything would be better than _killing_ her and _enjoying it._

That is, if this is the real deal. Arachne's little spiel was pretty fucking convincing, but she could still be talking out of her ass. This could be a drug, maybe a liquidized version of the drug they gave him earlier. He's pretty sure they gave him roofies with witch blood in it, because witch blood usually nullifies demon powers, but he's not one hundred percent.

"How could you do this? _Justin,_ I know you—you're not, I mean—"

"Do you really think," Justin snaps, grabbing her by her hair and tugging her head back painfully. "That nobody knew about you and this _prick_?Oh, they did. I told them, but they didn't want to do anything to their precious little angel, their _golden child._ 'Said it was just a phase. But it's not; I can tell by the way you two look at each other."

The colour in her face drains, and she turns, eyes meeting his. She thinks it's her fault. _Fuck,_ Soul panics. She thinks it's her fault.

He knows he only has one chance to do _something_, so he readies himself for when Giriko unlocks the cuffs around his wrists. He might not do much damage, but he'll have an opening and that's the best he can—

Something _snaps,_ painful and sharp, and Soul doesn't even have a chance to scream before his limp, broken arm is being pulled forward, twisted the wrong way. Maka shrieks when she sees it and struggles harder against her own cuffs, trying to get out of Justin's hold as he presses her back against the chair.

His mind is hazy and pain filled, and he knows that he won't be able to do anything. Not with his arm broken like it is, the bone poking out just below his elbow. _Fuck,_ he thinks, twisting his head to look at Maka. _I'm going to kill her._

Maka kicks and spits and slams her head back against Justin's chest. But nothing happens, and neither of their partners burst through the doors. They're both fucked.

"_Soul,"_ Maka is crying, he thinks. Her nose is scrunched and her mouth is snarling. Something pokes his skin. "_Don't_ let it take you over—"

Heat races through his veins. It sizzles and burns. Soul screams.

(~)

* * *

They injected something in him, Maka repeats, dodging another blow from his scythe. This isn't Soul. The demons and…and Justin, it's their fault. They put that black liquid into his veins and they are the reason he's attacking her—

"Hold _still,"_ Not-Soul snaps, and Maka narrowly avoids her nose being cut off. He laughs when wisps of her hair fall to the ground, a loud and crazed thing that makes her stomach lurch. This isn't _Soul._

She wants to fight back, to try and knock sense into him, but she doesn't have her powers yet. Each time she tries to summon her weapon works a bit more, but not enough. And she can't take the time to try and summon it because that would give Soul an opening.

Justin and the others are watching with amusement, and she hates them _so much._ How could Justin do this? She's known him for so long—she can't remember _not_ knowing him, and never has he hurt her. But now here he is, watching and laughing and she hates it. Hates _him_ for letting Soul get like this.

This makes her worry too, because what if Black Star is like Justin? Who knows if he's looking for her or gone back home to tell them that she died on the job. Was there even a _job_ to begin with?

The edge of Soul's scythe nicks her arm. Maka hisses, ducking low to keep from getting her head taken off. "Soul, this isn't you!"

It's not his grin. It's that—that _demon_ that's inside him. But his voice is the same and so are his movements, and she doesn't know how she's going to get out of this one. She doesn't know if she'll be _able_ to get out of this alive.

Men are posted at each of the exits, their own weapons held in defensive positions, so she can't go through there without being stabbed or shot or hacked apart. And going _up_ isn't an option, either. She has to wait until he wears down, or the blood leaves his system. That, or wait to be killed. Maka isn't sure he can stop the blood from controlling him if it comes to that.

She stumbles, landing on her hands. The pain is new to her. Usually her powers keep her from feeling pain too much, only for a minute or so, but the pain from landing lingers longer.

Maka moves quickly, attempting to get to her feet, but Soul is there suddenly, eyes a dark crimson, not his usually warm colour. He wraps a hand around her throat and shoves her to the ground, and despite her shoves and kicks, he doesn't budge. He _laughs._

"Can I do _anything?"_ He asks loudly, tilting his head and inhaling sharply. Maka claws at his face with her nails, but he only tightens his grip on her throat. She watches with horror as the blood from the cuts well with black blood.

"Mm, feel free, Eater."

"Soul," Maka chokes, trying to pull his hand from her windpipe. His nails dig in, but she manages to tug it away just enough. A familiar feeling rises in her, something warm, and she has to buy herself some time. "_Please."_

He blinks at her. Has she gotten through to him? Maka tugs at his hand again, but it's no use. He's smirking, drawing his hand to his throat. His weight drops heavily onto her stomach, but she hardly feels it. "I can do anything, Maka. _Anything."_

"Wha—"

Before she has a chance to finish, he leans his neck over her face and claws his way across his throat, tearing the skin and allowing the black blood to fall against her skin.

"_YAHOO!"_

Maka doesn't have time to think. She shuts her mouth, twisting her head as far as his hand against her throat will allow her. If that stuff gets inside her…Maka shudders at the thought, her stomach plummeting.

_"Just open up!"_ He yells, and people move around them, flashes of blue and yellow and black, bright lights and dark shadows. Soul tightens his hand around her throat.

"Hey, fucker!" Someone yells, and Soul is booted off her, but Maka can taste it. Can _smell_ the blood. Her eyes burn with the stuff, but nothing happens. Does it not work on angels? She's not sure, but she's incredibly fucking glad. Maybe if she gives Soul some of _her_ blood…

Maka pushes to her feet, watching the scene unfold around her. Soul is fighting Black Star and another man with three white stripes on the left side of his head, while two blonde girls fight the other demons, and Tsubaki battles Arachne.

The warm feeling fills her once more, her eye sight sharpening, wounds healing, and when she holds out her hand, her skin glows hot and bright, and her scythe appears in a flash of light. She twirls it around a few times, before spinning and running towards Tsubaki.

"Did Black Star call you?" Maka asks, coming up beside Tsubaki. She has a few cuts on her from Arachne's fan, but they're healing already, stitching up like they were never even there.

Tsubaki nods, lowering herself into a defensive position as Arachne takes them in, preparing for an attack. "He did. I can't say I was surprised to find out that you'd been captured along with a demon. He's the same one from before, correct?"

Maka hums her reply and dodges when Arachne darts toward them. The aftershock of her fan hits them hard, though, and the two angels fall back. "Dammit, she's fast."

Her friend smiles at her pleasantly, raising her chain scythes up higher. "Not nearly as fast as I am, Maka."

And then she's gone in a blur of black, clashing with Arachne. The two move at almost impossible speeds, and knowing she can't catch up, Maka turns, seeking a new opponent.

Justin is helping Soul now, his own weapon attached to his arms. He swipes at both the man and Black Star, though the latter is far more focused on getting to Soul.

She can see that the blonde girls have gotten through many of the other demons, small red orbs floating above each corpse. They must be the Thompson sisters, Liz and Patti. Maka's never seen the two girls in action, but they're legendary back home, known to be able to take care of an entire battle field with just their guns.

She's about to run over and help Black Star when a pain shoots through her back and she tumbles forward onto her hands and knees. Hot blood drips around her, but she bites her tongue to keep the whimper of pain inside. It's already healing, anyway. All she needs to do is get up and punch the jerk that did this in the face.

Maka stands on shaking limbs. Her power is already flooding through her, and she tightens her grip on her scythe. It feels fantastic to have her powers back. She feels stronger, faster, almost invincible, and it's fantastic. Except for the fact that the wound on her back isn't stitching up quite as fast as she wants it to and Giriko is staring at her like she's his next meal.

"Y'know, I always wanted to be the one to kill you. Or fuck you, really. Didn't matter which order." He licks his lips, showing her his sharp serrated teeth. Maka swallows back her fear and raises her scythe up higher, meeting his eyes.

"Oh shut up," she snaps, before pushing herself forward, swinging her scythe toward his head.

Giriko dodges, swiping his chain saw at her legs, but Maka manages to skid out of the way before the hit connects. The demon laughs loudly, twisting around to face her once more. Around them, she can see that Black Star isn't faring well against Soul because none of his hits from his sword do any damage. She can practically feel his frustration.

She slips a bit when Giriko aims for her legs, but she recovers quickly, bringing her scythe down on him. It pierces his shoulder, sinking deep.

He screams, pushing the blade out, bloodying his hands in the process, and makes his way toward her, arm hanging limp at his side. "You've got fight in you. I like that."

Her lips curl in a snarl, and she swings again just as he does, their weapons hitting each other loudly. Scratches appear on her blade and she feels it, the connection to her weapon echoing painfully. Her hands shake, and she loses her grip on her scythe, falling to her knees. She's never had something like this happen before. The cracks on her blade grow deeper, and when the blade shatters, her vision goes black, then bright.

Maka knows she's screaming, but she can't hear herself over the pounding in her head, or the twisting of her insides. Her weapon will regenerate, she knows, but god_dammit,_ this hurts.

Giriko knocks her back, and her head smacks roughly against the concrete, the pain blooming sharply in the back of her mind. She tries to push it away and focus on fighting Giriko. If she can't do that then she's dead, she can't save her friends and _Soul_ if she's _dead._

Somehow, she manages to hit him hard enough to stun him, and she shoves him away from her, crawling to her feet. But she doesn't have a weapon, and he's standing back up, rubbing his jaw with one hand and clutching his chain saw in the other. And then he's…bleeding? _Oh,_ Maka falters, eyes widening with shock. _Oh no…_

Soul's scythe plunges through Giriko's chest and blood seeps quickly to the ground. Giriko's mouth opens and closes, but Maka can't focus on that, because Soul's still insane, laughing and pulling his blade out of the other demon roughly. His eyes meet hers, and he giggles as he says, "I get to kill her, not you."

The body falls forward, and in an instant, Soul is there, in her face. "_Maka~"_

Behind him, Maka spies Black Star and the other man picking themselves up off the floor. Maka thinks she recognizes him as Death the Kid, but she can't focus too much on it, because Soul bites down on her collarbone and pulls her roughly against him. "I can make you like me, Maka~." He pulls away, tilting his head to the side. "We'll be together, right?"

Her breath comes out in short bursts as she tries to get away from him. She's almost sure that her scythe has regenerated, because she can't feel the pain from it anymore. "Soul—let me go!"

Black Star is shouting something, but he's not looking at her. Behind her, someone screams.

_Tsubaki._ Her heart pounds in her chest and Maka struggles more to get away from Soul, kneeing him, punching him, but his grip on her is like iron and she can't get away no matter how much she tries. Tsubaki screams again, and it sounds painful. Like she's being killed.

"_Please,_ Soul," Maka begs, raising her hands and pressing them to his cheeks. Soul's eyes are steady and dark as they meet hers. "Just come back, okay? Because I need to help Tsubaki, and I can't do that if you're trying to kill me."

"Not kill," Soul laughs, digging his fingernails into her shoulders. "I wouldn't kill you, Maka."

And then she feels it, something warm, though not like her powers. This time it's different, stronger, and her instincts tell her to use it against Soul. Maka's never been one to ignore her instincts, because if she were, she wouldn't have been with Soul, so she takes a deep breath and presses her hand to his chest, right where his heart is.

Painful, blinding light rises up around them, and for a fraction of a second, Maka's sure she's lit them both on fire somehow. For a brief moment, she sees what she assumes are his memories from his human life. She sees pianos and a man and woman who resemble Soul. But almost as quickly as it came, the pain and memories are gone, warming her skin and bones, and when she opens her eyes, the two of them have fallen to their knees. Something black and thick drips from his eyes and nose and mouth an pools on the ground before disappearing altogether, only a black stain on the concrete any evidence that he's had the black blood on his system.

She feels exhausted, but when she looks at Soul and meets his eyes, she knows he's better. That the blood in his system has gone somehow. That the light that surrounded them fixed him, and she grins. "Want to help me kill this bitch?"

Soul's face softens from its shocked expression, and he nods, standing and holding a hand out for her to take.

"Come on."

(~)

* * *

By the time the two of them made it over to help, Arachne and Justin were wrapped with Maka and Soul's cuffs from earlier, both worse for wear. Maka couldn't help the smirk that rose on her face at the sight of the two of them tied up.

Tsubaki, who leans heavily against Black Star's side, offers her and Soul a soft smile. "Everything is alright?"

Black Star's eyes slide to Maka and Soul, but he says nothing, and Maka nods, tightening her grip on Soul's hand. "Yes, we're good."

Death the Kid arrives then, putting something—Maka assumes it is his phone—back into his pocket. "Our forces should be arriving soon to collect the souls of the fallen demons, and these two. And I've called my father as well, so he's sending his Death Scythe team out here."

The thought of her father arriving gives her mixed feelings. It's been a while since she's seen him, what with him being a Death Scythe and busy, but if he came here while she was with Soul…the outcome didn't seem that great.

Soul nudges her, and Maka realizes that Kid had been speaking to the two of them. "What?"

"I said," he begins carefully, eyes on Soul, "That the two of you should say your good-byes now."

Maka's stomach drops. She knew this was going to happen eventually, but she didn't… giving up her powers seemed like a much better idea now than it had earlier.

Soul must have nodded, because she's being pulled away from the others and to a far corner of the warehouse. When they stop, Soul steps away from her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall. "This is so fucking stupid. What are we supposed to do? Thank each other for the great fuck and then move on with our lives?" He snorts and turns his head away, gritting his teeth.

She doesn't say anything. What can she say that would make this better? At the end of the day, it'll all be the same. They won't see each other, and it won't matter what they tell one another.

"I'm sorry I attacked you," he says eventually, stepping away from the wall. "I could see what I was doing, but everything was distorted and I couldn't control myself."

"It's fine." She wants to hug him, kiss him, disappear to the far ends of the earth and never talk about angels or demons again, but she can't. They can't.

Doors slam open behind them, and a loud cry of her name along with pitiful crying draws her attention. Their time is up. And if they aren't put on trial or killed, they'll be under supervision.

She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses him quickly, her eyes open. She wants to memorize every part of his face, she wants to make this _last_ but she can't.

Despite the burning in her eyes, she keeps her head held high and face dry as she goes out to meet her father, Soul trailing slowly behind her.

Spirit spots her almost immediately and rushes towards her, grabbing Maka in a death grip and hugging her to him. "Oh _Makaaaaaaaaa~!_ Papa thought you were a goner! But you're my strong girl just like your mama, right?"

He sobs against her, rubbing his face along her collarbone, smearing snot and tears there.

And then Stein comes over, cuffing her arms behind her back, while Death the Kid does the same to Soul.

(~)

* * *

Three days later, Maka and Soul are finally brought in front of Lord Death and his son. Some of the higher up demons are present; Medusa being the only one Maka recognizes, while Lord Death has Black Star and Tsubaki, as well as three of the Death Scythes, Marie, Stein, and her father.

While Lord Death and his son go over _why_ she and Soul were arrested, she keeps her gaze level and her head held high. If she's going to die today, she wants to do it with dignity, not as some sniveling little girl.

"…but," Lord Death sighs, leaning forward, clasping his gloved hands together. "You two, as well as Black Star, Tsubaki, my son, and the Thompson's, have shown that you can work well together. From what I understand, Elizabeth and Black Star tracked the two of you down before calling for reinforcements. All of your teamwork is exceptional. And, if what I see between you two is true, and if your angelic power nullified the black blood within Soul Eater, than maybe it wouldn't be so bad so see how this goes."

Soul stiffens beside her and she glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He looks confused, much like the rest of the room. Chatter rises up, as well as a few protests, and finally, Maka asks, "How what goes?"

"Your new team, Miss Albarn; Spartoi."

Confusion rises up within her. A new team? With demons? They've got to be joking, right? She and Soul are supposed to be executed or banished or _something._ Not invited to join a new team, much less one with each other.

And what had he said about the black blood? She only nullified it? If that's the case than he could go insane at any time. Would she have to do that light thing again? She's not even sure how.

Maka lets out a breath, and beside her, Soul looks more serious than she'd ever seen before. "So what does this mean for us?"

Kid looks exasperated, like he's already explained it multiple times already, but it's his father who answers instead. "You and Miss Albarn may continue seeing one another so long as it does not jeopardize any mission you two are to embark on. And if this team does not work out, it will be disbanded, and the status of your relationship will be determined from there."

She doesn't exactly enjoy the fact that _they_ think they can control her relationship with Soul, but so long as their team works out, the two of the can continue being together. And she probably shouldn't complain or say anything.

Soul obviously does not care about anything when he asks, venom lacing his voice, "And what is the catch?"

Despite the mask, Maka can tell Lord Death is smirking, and she remembers again why she likes him so much. "The catch of course will be that Miss Albarn has to live with you. We would all hate for you to lose control."

Spirit lets out a loud wail of anguish, but Maka ignores him and the blush that creeps up along her neck and face. "What of Arachne and Justin? Are they to be executed?"

Lord Death taps his fingers along the large table, and the others seem restless now, bored almost. Medusa is smirking at Soul, her eyes alight with something, but Maka can't distinguish what it is.

"They will be executed, yes. We won't allow this to happen again."

Maka assumes the meeting is done then, and as everyone around her begins to rise and gather their things, Maka does the same, only to be stopped by Lord Death.

"The two of you, from my understanding, have been caught together when you were younger, correct? And you, Mister Eater, were injured."

"Yes," Soul nods slowly, eyebrows furrowing. Maka wonders what he's getting at as well. She knew that _he_ knew about it, because Stein and her father were there and had to report back to him, but why was he bringing it up now?

"And you didn't take the hint then? That maybe it wasn't worth it?"

Maka pauses, her eyes on the ground. She's not sure what Soul will say, but she can't be angry if it's negative. She wouldn't want him to risk his life just to see her, as she's told him before. But it will still hurt all the same—

"No, I've never had that thought."

Relief floods through her, and as their cuffs are taken off, Soul grabs her hand.

(~)

* * *

Later, while Maka braids back her wet hair, Soul enters the bathroom, coming up beside her, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "Can I try?"

"No, you'll ruin it. And I'm tired. Sleeping on that stupid cot in my cell has not been good."

Soul pushes her hand from her head anyway, and before she has a chance to scold him for it, he runs his fingers through the damp locks, separating the braid.

"Soul!" She snaps, wishing she had a book around so she could chop him properly. But she settles for using her hand instead, bringing it down harshly. "I was trying to make my hair wavy for tomorrow!"

He snorts, caging her in against the bathroom counter, arms on either side of her. "Who were you trying to impress? I prefer your pigtails."

"I prefer you not talking."

"That can be arranged," he smirks, pressing his mouth against hers.

She kisses him easily, slowly, too tired to fight him off. "I'm really glad that we get to be together, you know."

"Mm," he nods, pressing their foreheads together as he pulls away from her lips. She sees something in his eyes then, something strong and powerful, something important, probably. Something that makes heat pool between her thighs and her heart beat faster, almost painfully against her ribcage.

"Are you too tired to…?"

"Tired? I'm not tired," she breathes, kissing him quickly, a hand already shoved down the front of his boxers. "I certainly hope you're not."

"Not even a little bit," Soul laughs, hoisting her up onto the counter, and she forgets about the past few days, pushing it all to the back of her mind, and focuses on Soul instead.

(~)

* * *

**A/N: **Alright, so in case anyone is wondering:

Maka and Soul know each other from a few years back, when they first met and fought, and after fighting a few times and helping one another out on missions, they began to develop ~feelings~ and everything was great for a bit until Crona found out (Arachne, who _sent_ Crona) and tried to kill them for being 'traitors'. Basically, Soul got his chest ripped open and Maka freaked out. Stein fixed him up and Black Star threatened to kill him if he ever talked to her again, and until about a year ago, they hadn't talked. And then of course they fucked and fucked things up again okay woot.

I've got a prologue, so I might post it eventually, just to explain stuff.


End file.
